#I have socks from here they're good quality

[covid-safer-hotties]

I would like to ask if there are some things I've misunderstood or been misinformed about when it comes to masking. Are the following things true?

If I take off my mask in public for even a brief moment, it cancels out any positive effect wearing it might have had up until then.

If I touch my mask with my hands, my hands are contaminated and must be washed immediately with soap and water before I touch anything else.

If I take off my mask, it's "spent" and must be thrown away, and I have to put on a new mask.

I'm asking because I'm having a hard time figuring out how to drink water or eat food while masking, or if it's even possible to do so safely.

There's some crossed wires and half-truths here.

While unmasking in public for a moment doesn't undo the protection you've been doing, it does remove that protection and potentially expose you to covid. This risk is lessened outdoors, especially when you're far from others and it's breezy/windy (covid aresols don't stay aloft long on moving air; and the turbulence can potentially kill any virions that remain aloft... and being away from people diffuses any potential covid they may be exhaling, substantially reducing chances for infective exposure.) The risk rises the closer the people and in public indoor spaces (air changes often aren't high enough to clear covid aresols via ventilation. Big offenders in bad air circulation are schools, many medical buildings, and resturants.) You also are far less likely to get a good seal when putting your mask back on in public, increasing your exposure risk while masked again. It isn't all or nothing, but donning and doffing [taking off] a mask isn't just like pulling up socks: there's ways to do it correctly and most people don't.

This is following contamination controls for diseases spread by fluids or fomites. While covid rarely if ever spreads via surface contact, other diseases (such as mpox, potentially) could seep through the fibers of your mask given the right circumstances. All this being said, touching your mask (especially with dirty hands) fouls it like any filter. It means it will have to be thrown out sooner, and touching it may also break your seal. Avoid touching your mask in public and do try to touch it with mostly clear hands, and only on the edges of the filter material for best longevity.

Most masks used for covid can be used several times by most people. It's been proven in studies that the elastic on a disposable mask will wear out before average usage would wear out its filter medium. You should throw out any mask that is visibly dirty: sweaty masks grow mold. Dry masks can be stored in paper bags for a week or more to aid in basic decontamination, and you can use most masks that still have stiffness in the nosepiece and good elastic 3 or 4 times depending on type and how you use them. Daily wear (multiple hours at a time) will wear out the components faster. I have some KN95s that I opened in 2021 that I still use when opening the door to get a delivery or when I'm pumping gas around people or something like that. They probably need to be replaced soon (and many have been) but they've been used maybe a total of 25 minutes each and they're clean and the elastic and nosepieces are still good! It's all about being able to judge the quality. If you struggle with this aspect, it's best to play it safe and not reuse masks much.

[shieldofiron]

Hello

But what about Steve who got kicked out by his parents when he came out as bi and somehow made it to California and ends up doing sex work and finds it is something he is good at and having a huge dick is good for something for a change. He also does some high end escort work too cos he knows all the etiquette stuff, thanks to his upbringing.

He's got his regulars, men and women, and a little apartment and there's this golden guy who looks like a freaking god who goes past every morning on a run, super early, when Steve has a coffee on his balcony. Steve starts thinking about him when he's jerking off or when he's with clients, he can't help himself.

And then one day he shows up at this fancy hotel to be some rich guy's escort for the night and it's the guy he's been seeing run past his balcony every morning.

Mr Hargrove, CEO of something.

Anyway, that's what I was thinking about just now while I was waiting for you to tell me the super sad bit of your idea.

<3

The request is kind of weird.

Normally people request him in lingerie, something filmy and sexy that frames his body. When it's not that it's suits, from a casual sports coat all the way to a tuxedo, and he keeps it all in his closet.

"You know what it means?" Angela's gum snaps on the phone.

"Green basketball shorts?" Steve scratched his temple, "Not really. I think I have some from high school."

"Well, if they're tight," Angela said, "And he said sneakers. High white socks."

Steve rolled his eyes, "Okay. Weirdo. Did he say anything about sex acts?"

"Anal," Her gum pops.

"No shit, it's a guy," Steve rolls his eyes.

"He just asked what you looked like, honestly. Wanted a guy with brown eyes, brown hair, real pretty," Angela clicked her long nails against the counter, "Other than the outfit he wasn't too talkative. Sexy ass voice. He requested you specifically. Got all perked up when I said the name. Stephan the King only."

Steve shrugged, "Okay. Whatever."

Most of the time he wasn't too concerned with what his clients wanted. He was flexible in more ways that one, happy to bottom or top or escort them to the opera or just listen. Most of the time, the job was just listening, even during sex. Finding out what people liked and being that came naturally to him. He was good at bullshit, as Nancy would say. He was a great hooker.

He'd made his job bullshit. He got paid an ungodly amount by the hour to spread his legs or spread someone else's, and he was good at it. Hooked up with an agency that specialized in high quality work, and kept the total weirdos away from him.

His roommate Jason Carver had a good hand with the weirdos anyway. He was always getting the odd calls where he had to dress up in costumes and came home to their apartment at odd hours, covered in weird substances, his legs shaky until Steve made him take a shower. Last night it had been grape jelly.

And so here Steve was, not covered in jelly, sitting in a plush hotel room in Malibu with his Hawkins high shorts pushed down his thighs, trying to finger himself and thinking about his favorite spank bank material.

Steve didn't know the guy's name, but he called him the runner. Always running at 5 am, long blonde curls streaming behind him. He looked like the models on the covers of those Johanna Lindsay romance novels, the practically-bondage porn that he'd devoured in high school during sleepless nights.

He imagined the running slowing down when he got to Steve's balcony, his bronze skin gleaming and his blonde beard hiding a devilish smirk.

The smirk may be borrowed... maybe the shorts have him remembering some other sleepless nights in high school.

Steve is loose, last night he was working with a couple, and so he's pretty stretched out, which means he can concentrate on just relaxing, brushing his fingers ever so softly over his prostate as he imagines the runner smirking, his voice a hazy blend of movie stars and devilish California drawling.

He kicks up his feet on the bed, working himself shamelessly in time with his finger's motions. He rolls the tip of his pointer over the small nub of his prostate while he works a fourth finger inside.

The alarm on his watch goes off and he makes a winded noise, halfway between a whine and a groan. He was just getting to the good part of the fantasy, where the runner would position him, ass up, over his tiny Venice balcony and eat him out like he was trying to make Steve cum before the dawning of the apocalypse. He would rub his face all over that golden beard, ride him like a stallion. Steve rode his fingers through one more wave, heat crashing down his spine, before he pulled out, tugging up his shorts over his painful erection and rushing to the bathroom to wash his hands and check his hair.

He didn't have to do all this prep but it made his job more enjoyable. Most clients didn't want to go through a lot of foreplay, obviously. But he did like coming too, and it wasn't like he was taking ten clients a night. Might as well have fun.

He was all positioned on the bed when the guy came in. Ready for the masc fantasy, legs spread, his arms on his knees. His dick was lewdly outlined by the tiny shorts, but he guessed they weren't going to the opera so that should be okay.

"In here," He called out, holding his breath until the guy came around the corner.

That devilish smirk fell right to pieces.

"Harrington," The man gasped, the word more breath than it was noise.

"Billy??"

"What are you doing here? Is it Max? Is she okay?" Billy's face is vulnerable, pale under his golden beard.

Steve thinks of the last time they'd seen him, driving off into the dead of the night while Max had cried. She'd begged for Steve's help to move Billy out, and the last he'd seen of Billy Hargrove it was just him chuffing Max on the chin, telling her to be brave.

"She's okay, I..." Steve shook his head, "I'm just here to meet a client."

"Client..." Billy ran a hand over his eyes, and then dropped it over his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry, they must have given me the wrong key at the front I'm supposed to meet-"

"Killian Handcock?"

Steve froze.

"Yeah," Billy sighed, "That's me."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Look, sorry for all this. I'll pay, of course, for your time," Billy began to dig in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"No, whoa, it's okay," Steve waved his hands, "It's okay."

"Obviously, you wouldn't-"

"We can still-"

Billy blinked at him.

"I just mean. It's fine, right. We know why we're here," Steve glances down at his outfit, "You really didn't know it was me?"

"Fuck," Billy dragged a hand down his face, "This is so fucking humiliating."

"No, really," Steve chuckled, "What high school crush am I supposed to be?"

The words are out of his mouth before he's fully able to think them through. It's all obvious later but in the moment, he's thinking of all the guys in their school with brown eyes... brown hair... real pretty...

Billy moves towards him, his face flashing angrily, and then he rears back, nearly slamming into the giant tv that dominates the far wall.

Startle response, Steve remembered from when Billy came back. If he so much as put his hands towards someone he would flinch, remembering what the Mind Flayer made him do.

Steve wasn't being a very good hooker. He wasn't listening. Wasn't thinking.

"You know," Steve sat back on the bed slowly, no quick movements. "I used to read these romance novels in high school. Kind of cheesy, definitely NOT always with the best consent. But... sometimes they'd have these tough guys, kind of take charge guys. And I used to imagine you... taking charge of me."

Billy just blinks at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

Steve spread his legs, just casually.

"Is that what you used to imagine too?" Steve asked.

"Maybe," Billy says in a cracked voice.

"Tell me," Steve urged.

It takes Billy a moment, fumbling with his fancy wool jacket. He hasn't flashed the cash yet, but Richard Harrington's son recognizes an expensive suit when he sees it. Billy's got the money to pay.

Not that Steve's thinking much about payment when Billy starts talking, in that movie star drawl.

"Wanted you to fuck me. Me to fuck you. Wanted to turn you inside out and shake you like pants at the laundromat," Billy whispered, "See what falls out."

Steve bit off a moan that wasn't practiced, wasn't planned. They haven't touched for years. Not since after Starcourt, careful touches around Billy's healing body, friendly, boyish nudges. Nothing like this.

"Wanted to touch you," Billy's face is so raw with longing, blue eyes sparking, it's almost hard to look at, "Touch you all up and down those long legs. Wrap you around me like a scarf. Keep me warm. Indiana's cold as shit and you always looked so warm."

Steve spread his legs further, "I run hot."

Billy reached back and undoes his hair, and it's only as it streams down his shoulders that Steve realizes, almost chuckling if it wasn't for the open, bare way Billy's looking at him. Like Steve is some kind of dream come true.

And the thing is that Steve's a happy hooker. He's not looking for any pretty woman ending.

But... you know sometimes he imagines. Imagines a guy with long blonde hair pulling him close after sex and calling him honey, baby, sweetness.

Billy takes a step forward and Steve smiles at him.

"I'm assuming you don't want me scared, or nervous," Steve runs a hand up his knee.

Billy shakes his head.

"Boyfriend experience," Steve offers, but it doesn't sound like a question, because he's not asking.

Billy's telling him, in the trembling hand that finally finds it's way to Steve's knee, the heavy swallow when Steve tips his head back, letting Billy into his space.

Steve knows. He's listening.

"This a... you have rules..." Billy's voice is gruff, low. Barely heard over the hum of the ac and the distant traffic from the street below.

"I kiss," Steve cocks his head to the side, "I do just about anything. For you."

He runs his hand over the back of Billy's, just tracing the road map of his veins. The long route that led them both here.

"Billy," Steve breathes.

It was just like he imagined Billy Hargrove would kiss. Hard and rough and desperate, like they were about to be ripped apart. Maybe they were, because Steve was clinging too, and it wasn't bullshit. He was shocked to find it was true, every word of it.

He fell open on the bed, half smothered by Billy's bulk, and he reveled in it, wrapping his legs around Billy and tugging him until his full weight pressed Steve to the bed.

Billy broke their kiss with a rough pant against Steve's lips, "Don't wanna crush you, Pretty Boy."

Steve urged, tugging Billy harder, "What a way to go."

Billy's laugh felt different close up, and his beard was softer than it looked, tickling Steve's face. His kiss was hot, and he sank into Steve like a hot knife through butter.

Steve was used to having to work himself up, he forgot what a revelation it was to just kiss. They rolled around together like they invented it, gasping at tugging nips and sucked tongues like they had never done this shit before.

Billy cradled his face like he was trying to memorize it, barely even dry humping him.

And Steve was losing it a little, because the boyfriend experience never felt like this. Never felt like years of knowledge and a "be brave, shitbird."

Never like this.

He undressed Billy like his life depended on it, running his hands up and down Billy's scars and feeling like he could cry, or laugh or something. Somehow, Billy was now the slow one, holding him carefully, like Steve might break. And Steve was the animal, the cyclone, kissing Billy hard, rubbing up on him like a cat in heat.

Because it was Billy, Billy Hargrove, and he was murmuring about honey and sweetheart, and he was begging Steve in soft words to just, "let me take care of you, that's all I want. Want to wrap those legs around my head and drown in 'ya, Harrington."

Steve shook his head, trembling when Billy rolled his hands around Steve's cock through the shorts, pulling Billy closer with his legs.

"I'm ready," Steve whispered, "Want you inside of me. Please, Billy, let's not wait."

"M'Pretty Boy," Billy whispered back, sounding tortured. His brows were drawn up as if in pain, and he cradled Steve's cheek in one hand.

"Billy," Steve pulled Billy back by that long gorgeous hair, "Just fuck me. Please, God, I really want you to fuck me, please."

Billy had a slightly troubled look, but he nodded, tugging at Steve's shorts with gentle hands, chuckling softly when Steve reaches down and yanks them off roughly, losing them in the rumpled bed instantly.

Steve just rolled his legs up, not wanting to part before he gets into position and-

"Condoms," Billy gasped, his eyes jolting to Steve's face.

"Yes... fuck... sorry, yes, I have some, they're on the nightstand."

It's like dousing them both with ice water. Billy pulls back, looking at Steve and then looking down.

They sit there a moment.

"I want you to know," Billy said in a cracked voice after a long pause, his back to Steve. "I'm not a creep. I haven't thought of you in... in a long time. I don't like... hire guys and make them pretend to be you or nothing like that. I just..."

Steve waits, just listening. After a while he reaches a hand out and putting it on Billy's shoulder, rubbing slightly.

"I'm not a creep. I'm not gonna follow you home and t-throw you in a trunk or something-"

"Stop," Steve said, rubbing Billy's back in slow circles. "I don't think that."

"I just mean.... I'll pay," Billy said it gruffly, "If you have another client tonight, you gotta rush, that's ok. But if you have the night, I'll pay."

Steve looks down, catching a glimpse of Billy's hands, tangled together in his lap, holding the condom that he grabbed from the bedside table. He's just as beautiful as he used to be, maybe more so. He's got a layer of fat over his muscles that makes him look softer, his hair is long and soft, and even the beard, it takes away all his rough edges.

"I don't have to rush," Steve said. "Why'd you have me dress up, Billy?"

"I just saw someone, the other day. Been seeing him. In Venice. This guy, he's always wearing these loose robes and he hangs out on his balcony in the morning," Billy bit his lip, "Sometimes with a blonde guy. Boyfriend or something. Anyway, he kinda looks like you. And my boyfriend dumped me like a year ago, because I'm still a total freakshow. Issues on issues on issues. So I thought, fuck it. Why don't I just... be the freakshow I am."

"You're not a freakshow."

Billy chuckles, "Trust me. I am. Pining after a high school... nothing. You didn't even like me."

"I-"

"Don't pretend," Billy looks at him, eyes glistening, "Don't you bullshit me, Harrington."

"I'm not," Steve says, heart in his throat. "I'm not bullshitting. Haven't been from the moment you walked in here."

Billy says nothing, just looking at him.

"I don't have to rush," Steve shook his head. "And if tomorrow, you just leave, and there's money on the stand... that's totally cool. But I'm rushing because... because..."

Billy just watches. Listens.

"Because I'm really glad to see you again, Billy. Really glad. And I wouldn't mind," Steve steels himself for rejection, sucking in a breath. "Seeing you after tonight."

Billy's brow furrows, and he looks down at his hands again.

"Like... maybe for real. And I can wear actual clothes. And no one has to pay anyone. And I'll know who you are. You'll know who I am. And I'll take you back to Venice to meet my roommate, who you already fucking know, I think."

Billy's blinking hard, and it takes Steve a moment to realize he's crying.

"Billy," He whispers, "Honey. Sweetheart."

Billy reaches out and cradles Steve's cheeks, pulling him into his lap and then into a kiss.

"I don't think you're a creep, Billy," Steve wraps his legs around Billy, and holds him safe and warm, "I know you. I know you."

Billy makes a wounded noise, like he doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing. But then he starts running his hands down Steve's chest, tugging on his chest hair and rolling his nipples between his fingers, and Steve goes kind of cock dumb and wild again, rolling his hips, seeking to get closer. He wants Billy to press him to the bed, crush him with his weight.

It's just a happy blur, punctuated by moments of crystal clear sweetness. Billy presses his cock inside of Steve after a long, leisurely, lovely trip between Steve's legs. It turns out his tongue really is magic like the girls used to write on the bathroom walls. Steve's heart is beating like a jackhammer and he's sweating like he did so long ago in high school, his hair flopping in his face as Billy drives into him hard.

"You used to look so fuckin' cute in these little shorts," Billy growled, "Put them on again. Wanna push them to the side, get you all fucked out and gorgeous. Want you to cum in them, pressed all up against the waistband."

And maybe Jason's rubbing off on Steve because he does, slides the somewhat wrecked shorts over his sweaty ass and flops back on the bed. He practically presents his ass on a Hawkins green platter, moaning all slutty.

"Used to dream about them every night," Billy rubs him through the shorts, "Used to think about you in the hospital. When you would wear that fucking family video vest and come drive Max. You got me through physical therapy."

Steve looked over his shoulder, still working his ass back on Billy's cock, "I still have the vest."

"Fuck... fuck..." Billy actually covers his face with his hands, "Is this real? This is real right, not fake bullshit?"

Steve's literally got a cock in his ass, and it's normally not how he does stuff, but he looks back, because seriously?

"Billy. I said I wanna see you? I like you? Now can you please keep fucking me, I'm so close."

Billy finally smiles that smile, that devilish grin, "At your service, Sweetheart."

And then he rocks his hips up and back in a way that presses right against that sweet spot that makes Steve see stars. He cums so hard it does soak into the shorts like Billy said, and Billy rubs it in messily, groaning and pressing his head to Steve's back.

Steve goes boneless on the bed, not even moving when Billy pulls his softening cock out and gets up.

There's a moment when Steve's heart skips a beat that he thinks Billy's gonna slap down an envelope of cash and ask him to leave. And that would be fine. Could be totally fine.

But instead he tugs the covers back and helps Steve under, wrapping his arms around Steve and holding him close to his heart.

"You meant that, about seeing me again?" Billy says softly.

"Yeah, weren't you listening?" Steve plays with the silver medallion that hangs across Billy's collarbone.

"Yeah, I was listening," Billy kisses Steve's temple softly, and Steve's heart flutters like a cartoon duck. "How about we start with breakfast tomorrow. I got a good amount, let's give someone the tip of their life. And I think you need waffles. Pancakes. Whatever the hell you want."

Normally, Steve would call bullshit. But Billy's got a Cartier tank ticking where he tucks a sweaty lock behind Steve's ear. And he knows Billy. He trusts him.

Steve tugs on the necklace until Billy gets the hint and draws him into another filthy kiss.

Steve's normally a pretty good hooker. He's not looking for a Pretty Woman ending.

But it turns out he's a bit of a sucker for the boyfriend experience.

---

This got WAY long. I'll proably put it up on ao3. @intothedysphoria and @dragonflylady77 be proud of me plz.

[live-laugh-lenney]

What about Chris MD as a girl dad 🤭🤭

All of the boys give such girl dad vibes and I’m so here for it 🩷

the girl-dad trope kills me for so many reasons, i have no idea why or where this love came from... it's just so cute to think about how they're very masculine and love their football and 'boy chat' but a little baby girl that is half them just brings out their inner feminine side... :((((

shoot day was babymd's favourite.

because it meant she got to spend some quality time with her dad, in the fresh air, and she was able to run around the whole stretch of the 3g football pitch whilst chris did take after take for his upcoming new video for his channel with whoever he had for his new idea.

and whoever is guest-appearing on his channel will always include her if she's lingering around and making herself known.

passing the ball to her with gentle kicks and praising her when she kicks the ball back in their direction. pretending to show off their skills but as soon as she gets one touch to the ball, they go down and pretend to have been tackled (which always makes her laugh). picking her up and sitting her on their shoulders in between takes. keeping her happy and entertained which chris is so thankful about.

yn takes the opportunity of a child-free day to go and see the girls so they can have a little pamper session or a coffee and a cake to have a catch-up over the last few weeks so it leaves chris to look after their little on. he dresses her in her little arsenal shirt that has 'babymd' on the back with the last two numbers of the year she was born, her shorts and socks matching with the white colour and the badge embellishment on the material and she has her own tiny pair of astros that (almost) match chris'.

and when they get to the location, before any of his videographers or his helpers came by, he has a little kick around with her and lets her kick balls into the goal as he pretends to save the balls but lets them pass him by and into the back of the net. and it's a sweet moment of 'daddy-daughter' that he takes full advantage of because there'll be days when he couldn't do it and he wanted to enjoy every moment before she grew up.

and when yn finishes up with her time with the girls, she arrives at where he's filming for the last hour of his shoot and babymd is just so happy and excited to see her mummy and barely leaves her side from the moment she walks over.

"hello, poppet," she coos softly and lifts her up onto her hip, "have you had a good day with daddy?"

and she nods and plays with the necklace hanging around yn's neck, the scuffing of arthur's shoes coming over to her making her look in his direction, a smile on her lips.

"she's a proper angel. still not sure how she came from chris' bollocks though," he laughs and yn tuts playfully and covers her little girl's ears at the language that came from his mouth, his eyes widening once he realised what he said and his hand came straight to his mouth, "oh crap."

"you're lucky she hasn't started mirroring people's speech yet," yn says with humour in her voice at how embarrassed the man before her seemed to become, "it's nothing compared to what chris comes out with at home though, it's fine."

"i forget we have to be pg now when she's here," arthur laughs softly and he pinches babymd's cheek as she giggles at him, "pretty sure she's going to grow up and be even better than her dad... although it won't be that difficult."

yn snorts softly and adjusts the little toddler on her hip.

"i'm probably gonna take her for a quick walk around the sainsburys over the road, get some food and that, can you let chris know i'll be back soon?" she asks arthur and he nods softly, "do you guys want or need anything?"

"i think we're all good," he smiles, "thank you though." xx

[ittybittykittyfingers]

Winter Clothing Tips

I wanted to make a friendly and detailed list of stuff I've learned from living in a cold climate.

(Note that I do not have vegan-friendly options- suggestions with links to a vegan product's efficacy are welcome)

This stuff is common knowledge where I live but it occurred to me that it might be useful to someone if I laid it all out. I'll be updating this list if I think of more.

I absolutely adore winter and want to help you love it too! Cheers! List below.

• “Cotton kills!" You see, when cotton gets wet, it will suck warmth from your body and freeze on your skin surprisingly easily. Use wool in place of cotton because when wool gets wet, it will still insulate you.

• Know how to layer! Counterintuitively, having layers of thinner, high-quality materials is less bulky than having a single jacket or pair of gloves/socks. Plus, it has the added bonus of being able to be taken off and switched around according to your needs.

1. Base layer - this is the layer that touches your skin. You want this layer to be light, flexible, and moderately form-fitting. This layer's job is to be moisture-wicking. Sweat evaporates, even under layers, so you want something that will move it away so you don't feel the cooling effect. You also just don't want moisture on your skin. Real silk is recommended.

2. Mid layer - this layer can actually be as many layers as you want. I rarely need anything more than a knit merino wool sweater, but accommodate yourself. This layer does the brunt of the work of keeping you warm. Real, non-blended wool is recommended, but really any wool will be miles better than most anything else.

• make it a priority to keep your center warm. Many people choose a vest as a mid-layer as it keeps bulk off of your arms and keeps your middle toasty.

3. Shell - this layer keeps the warmth in and the elements out. Many people go for waterproof shells so they can be worn all year (i.e. rain jacket). Shells have little to no insulation and usually have a hood. You want the shell big enough to always cover your underlayers, but not so big that it bunches up. I don't have a material to recommend here since anything truly waterproof and tough enough to resist puncture will do. It can actually get hot under there so consider whether you might want a ventilation hole for your arm pits. There are plenty of options. Know that any shell which says it's both breathable and waterproof is lying (unless it's a super fancy item, like $300 fancy). Sometimes, a water resistant material will be better for you than a waterproof one. It depends.

• socks, socks, socks! A pair of silk foot liners paired with a good pair of wool socks will keep you comfy all day. Make sure your winter shoes/boots are a bit too big to accommodate the extra space that multiple socks take up. Make sure your socks are taller than the top of your boots. You want the socks sticking out from the top. I like to layer my foot liners the highest, then the wool socks a bit lower, than the top of my boot lower than that. You can always fold the top of socks to make them a comfortable height. (Pro-tip: do not use ankle socks! They will bunch up)

• The above logic should be used for gloves too. You'll want to make sure your shell gloves are waterproof but thin enough that you are able to use your hands. Again, the name of the game is staying dry.

• Waterproof, non-slip boots are a must. You don't need to get fluffy or insulated boots if you use my sock tips. This saves money too because now you have boots to wear all year instead of just winter boots. I'm a fan of Gore-Tex with Vibram soles.

• If you do a lot of walking on pavement and such, get a pair of crampons! There are tons to choose from. They're awesome. They'll have you confidently walking around a frozen driveway with ease. Crampons are these rubber and metal things you strap to the bottom of your boot. They often use either spikes (only recommended for seriously rough terrain) or coils that lay horizontally under your foot to increase traction.

• Speaking of footwear accessories, consider getting waterproof gators. Common wisdom is to tuck pants into your waterproof boots to keep them dry. Sometimes, especially if the snow is deep enough, snow will get trapped at the top of your boots where your pants are tucked in anyway and it'll start dripping into your boots. Gators fix this issue. They're these... they're like shin guards that go all the way around your ankle and up to your knee. They cover the area where your pants meet the boots and will completely prevent snow from getting in. (Pro-tip: if you get ones that are also puncture resistant, they can be used in nice weather too to prevent ticks and protect against snake bites. They're perfect for tall grass. I use mine all year.)

• Scarves are often overlooked but they can make a huge difference. You'll want to find a way to tie them that is comfortable for you. There are plenty of guides on the internet for that. I've found that extra long scarves tend to be the most useful. I like to stuff the ends of them into my layers for extra coverage wherever I need it. Plus, it's easier to tie long scarves.

• Get a good hat that also has ear flaps. I like ones that have space above my head so that a warm air pocket forms, keeping my head comfy. Or you could get a pair of earmuffs that go around the back of your head to pair with your hat. You can use the hood of your shell to protect your hat if you need to, so focus on comfort and warmth for the hat rather than it being waterproof or especially durable. I tend to like alpaca wool for hats.

• Sunglasses can make a difference since blinding light glares off of the snow.

• Before you go out in the snow, put one of those foldable clothes drying racks in your bathtub. Leave a watertight bin by the door you'll be coming in from. Lay a towel at the door if you don't have a good/big enough doormat. You'll be dripping water and littering the floor with snow and ice when you come back inside. Wipe off/ shake off as much snow from your person and knock your boots on the lip of the doorframe before coming inside (this logic works for cars too). Put your wet clothes in the bin. Change into whatever you need to. Bring the bin with you to the bathroom and hang up your articles on the clothes rack to dry. You can keep your boots in there too, just make sure the clothes aren't going to drip into the boots. If you want to get fancy, you can buy a cheap boot dryer to keep in the bathroom.

• Once you get inside after being out in the cold, remove your jacket immediately. It'll take you longer to warm up inside if you keep wearing your outdoor clothes.

• Quick buying tip- if you end up visiting somewhere that's cold a lot, be sure to check out a wealthy location's Goodwill and thrift stores. I've found amazing brands like Patagonia, Kool, and Spider there for cheap!

• TL;DR If there's any one thing I would want to impress upon you, it's that materials matter. You could be wearing 4 cotton sweatshirts and still be cold or you could wear one marino wool sweater with a rain coat and be toasty and comfy.

[2n2n]

ch 119

WOOOOOO!!!! its endless fun at the JSHK

we don't know herrrrrrr... who is she! Lovely little Red House...

thankful for DBS, as the manga-UP upload (as it displayed on our tablet, I guess?) was too low-res to make this out even, let alone read it... medicine... the satchels that Amane would dissolve in water for his heart condition, and a cup of water? and some pills...

I wonder if that would simply mean, that Tsukasa never sacrificed himself at age 4 ... I would say the panel from Amane's birthday, it resembles moreso the clockkeeper's tall silhouette before young Amane... perhaps they made their proposition for a 'better' world simply, as they did in Nene-chan's dream, with her plant?

I don't know ... but it would be interesting to imagine an Amane, who simply was able to persevere through illness with medication, and still takes medication til his death (???).... a Tsukasa who was unable to do anything personally to save Amane, is interesting ... just a useless double-figure, no sacrifice to make. That is interesting to me, with Tsukasa's lack of self-value... his suicidal tendencies.

This world has a nearly unbearable amount of mystery... how did you get Tsukasa back? Do you understand what became of him? How much persisting love could 4 year old Amane have had, for his little brother? He's still on your mind, to this day ...

the cups which were immaculate and filled with tea on the table for Kou & Mitsuba, smashed ...

fun.

THE MOST UPSETTING THING IMAGINABLE!!!! what happened to your OTOUTO!!!!!!! screams.... a lone young Yugi.... scary, terrible, no no no!!!!

this made us laugh so hard at the manga-up release LOL

in just seconds we lost Nene-chan.....

Ahh one of those sublime Aida-sensei compositions... incredible... beautiful, evocative, heart-wrenching... Amane is such a labyrinth, isn't he... I love bandage boy looming over the edge of the stairs, refusing to walk up them further, poised to fall off entirely... so appropriate. And Hanako, pleasantly in place, not going anywhere....

I always love your instincts, Nene-chan. They're so strong. she's a good girl.

I don't know what to make of Kou, I have no idea what the house did with him when it disappeared him, what pulled him into that room, why, for what ...

s-scares me that this is still here in this world too.... please... why is Nene-chan destined to lose a leg or something... help....

N-Nene-chan, that's quite a strange impression of the Red House for you to have... thank you for being so kind to her, though... I think she's pretty misunderstood.... lets admire her wonder and mystery, ok?

there he is.... he has that kind of idiot quality to him... meep.

such an unbelievably beautiful shot....

Aida-sensei is a master... beautifully orchestrated... such a sweet Nene-chan... poor thing, poor thing...

it's like seeing an angel, right? Like seeing a fairy... I love Aida-sensei's taste for nervous gestures, hands...

the explosive Nene-chan hug moment!! It reminds me.....

of another......

she's both of your little fairy...

it's reassuring to see Amane looking this dumb and useless. It's comforting. It's familiar. Thank you.

yes. I understand Nene-chan would find it sexy.

ughf

[loses focus] get a blowjob idiot, get . suckedoff.... [SHAKES HEAD AROUND FURIOUSLY]

buffoon.... it's really calming to see you retain this quality, and also, it's not calming at all,

I love.... the blank-eyed blank-mouth Amane look.... becoming captivated...

oh Nene-chan... what wonderful lighting, what wonderful framing, so pretty. Nene-chan's stiff, strict pose, Amane's haphazard sloppy pose, his knit socks... fascinated, curious face....

you poor thing.... questions it hurts to ask.

I admire Nene-chan so much ... speaking from a Tsukasa perspective, I understand what it is like to have no good place in Amane's life, to imagine you're not the endgame, to imagine the best timeline in the world is one without need for you, a life with more delightful things filling it up, more happiness, intrinsically without you, without your love... though in my case, I accept it, and it's OK to die, since Amane is the only thing that could matter.... but I love to see Nene-chan confronting the pain of that very possibility for herself, the agony, is so earnest, so honest.... she wants more than anything to be special, because it's romantic, her romantic heart, she burns for significance in her love, in her passion amounting to something, in being some kind of good, her heart guiding her towards the right thing .... and not her heart guiding her selfishly, or uselessly, towards something with no room for her in it.... what I swallow, Nene-chan could never swallow, but that makes her special. It's sweet to cling and cling... to beg and cry.... what a wonderful love it is that sobs.

I feel for her so much, it would be easier to cry for her than for myself. Of course, Nene-chan could never be useless or unnecessary, she's so integral, to any chance for Amane's happiness. There can't be a world of a happy Amane without Nene-chan. Her sense for divine romance is correct, and it's something that everything in the world longs for, that kind of sentimentality... human and kaii alike, even kami. All the world it~ loves a lover~ 'cuz the lover~ loves the world~

bewitching, right? so nice to see him feeling this, even at this age... I'm sure he's never looked at another student this way. Or felt anything like this. This girl's intense feelings... radiating outward... unimaginable how thick and syrupy, right? it'll change the temperature of the room....

another beautiful panel by Aida-sensei.... so much envy for how she draws hair! I love how thin and floppy Nene-chan's feels... draping from the back of her head, over her downturned face... such a cute little pursed mouth. Impossible for her to keep her pain inside, she's not that type at all... too honest....

uaaaahhhhh 🙈it's TOO MUCH FOR THE GIRLS, AIDAIRO-SENSEI!!!! you can't do this to us/them.... noooo!!! isn't it wrong, it's like picking on the vulnerable..... iyaaaaa

such a sweet, heartfelt manga... the romance is so vivid... darling and sweet...

I like how much it hurts you, Nene-chan... I like how much you cry for it... you can't be happy for the idea of Amane's happiness alone... you wish you could give it yourself, be a part of it. You wish it included you. You wish it came from you. It's so painful because it's so selfish.... it's a wrong feeling to have. Your body wants to reject it. It feels distracted from the 'point' of happiness... what you 'want'. You 'want' a good future for Amane ... but some part of you must be begging for this world to be terrible, so you can have what you love back in your arms, for the happiness you alone could carve out for him. I respect that pain so so much.... you don't want it to be selfish to love Amane...

BIG FINISH!!!!!!!!

I love to see it yeessssss cheering hollaring whooping laughing cackling bones creaking in pain and pleasure

SHOW MEEEEEE THE SCARYYYYYYY MAN BRINGGGG HIM TO MEEEEE!!

I seriously wonder what the deal is in this situation, my god!! we all do of course... CAPTIVATING... this age Amane being here at all is a kind of time anomaly anyway, he isn't the right age and he isn't working at the school, yet here he is grading papers... does the conditions of his situation oscillate him between memoryless states? Does he operate on the living teacher .exe regularly, or is this genuinely a moment back in time? Only performed or really happening years ago? But the Amane in the school, itself, engaged with the topic of Tsukasa-kun, the rumors, likely the house (which he logically lived in, if we see him in it here now, settled)..... there just can't be a 'version' of him ignorant or helpless or only subjected to the house as an external ill, as he was seemingly actively perpetuating the school's possessions and sending students here. Fascinated by an Amane who is briefly so ignorant but can be triggered into his own memories and involvement .... is teacher.exe just so much easier to exist in while inactive?

the Red House, she seems to always exist untethered from time ...

well I'm deeply ready for the next issue's color opening, BRING MEEEE THE SCARY AMANE MANHANDLING NENE-CHAN...!!!!!! I want to know what we do with teens in this spooky mansion... what a thrilling story.

[sleeplesssmoll]

In your opinion what is Vertin suitcase animal? I'm trying to draw different gacha games as animals like Stelle and caelus as racoons, chiefs from Path to nowhere as snakes or cats, lumine and aether as bunnies or rabbits, rovers from wuwa as ravens/crow etc.

Friend, you're opening Pandora's box! We used to talk about this A LOT but at the end of the day I think it depends on what side you want to embody.

Frog because of all rain motifs?

Snow leopard cause it kinda looks like her?

Birds for symbolic reasons like liberty, or a caged bird for the exact opposite.

We also joked around about raccoons and possums too.

But I think somewhere along the lines, I stuck with cat because its more comprehensive than the others. Here is how I see it:

Cats are clever, independent, and adaptable. They're curious little things who manage to get into trouble and hang out in places we never thought they could reach. Horrorpedia convinces her to go to Greenlake, Vertin following up on rumors in Mane's Bulletin, and sometimes she chooses to get into trouble along her crew instead of being dragged in (like in Alien T's anecdote).

Cats are cute and stuff, so we see them as vulnerable creatures but they have fangs and claws. They are built to survive! They are hunters but we forget that until they bring back their prey or decide to give us a good chomp. People forget Vertin isn't a bad fighter despite her lack of arcanums. She's strong and agile AEB fighting Schneider, fighting enemies in Labyrinth, subduing Spathodea (literal boxer) with Ezra (who is sweet bby mushroom not a seasoned fighter), and protecting 37 while fighting manus.

They are stealthy, which we see in Vertin as well when she's sneaking around on missions. There is a magical quality to them too. Cats exist beside monsters, demons, humans, and so on in many stories. They're portrayal as something mundane yet still fantastical is something that Vertin embodies. Her "stoicism" also plays into the cat theme but once a cat likes you, you'd be surprised at how expressive they can be! You just need to get to know them.

Cats are alert at night too, sometimes even with Zoomies. Nap during the day, agent of chaos at night. Vertin is shown taking naps and staying up very late. I also like the idea of Kittin living in the Suitcase = Cat in a box. What is a Suitcase but a fancy box we use to carry around?

Cats also collect/hoard things. Socks, shiny things, toys under the couch... I see her a as collector based achievements and other meta (her gathering arcanists, Uttu cards, etc).

If not a cat, my second choice would be a bird. Some type of Corvid. I wish I could give you animals that you didn't already have listed! Maybe some specific type of cat?

But also I like cats and birds so that's a bias I have.

[octuscle]

CHAVTF - Dan and Dick

Richard was excited to see his son Daniel's new apartment. Daniel had moved out of his home in Mayfair a few weeks ago. For his work, the Eastend was better located. And Mayfair was indeed nothing for young people by now. Richard himself was considering moving away. He was now retired, and his wife had been dead for over a year. Perhaps a change of scenery would not be wrong.

The inspection of the new apartment did not take long. Small, functional. And still full of moving boxes. So Daniel suggested going to dinner at one of the nearby restaurants. Richard agreed. He was starting to get hungry. They had been walking for a few minutes when, completely unexpectedly, a heavy downpour came down. Although they quickly took cover under a tree, they were soaked to the bone. And then a huge amount of bird droppings slapped down on them. Their clothes were ruined.

Richard laughed. "It's all no drama. There's another store up ahead, we can get a dry and clean jacket there." Daniel hesitantly countered that this wasn't Savile Row, but Richard said they'd find something appropriate for dinner in the East End. They entered CHAVTF. A small store, crowded and not very clear. At the cash register at the entrance sat a young man with a shaved head, playing with his cell phone. When he saw Richard and Daniel, he began to grin. And a large wet spot formed in his crotch from the precum. "Oi mates, you looking for something dry? There are two changing rooms up ahead, strip down and I'll bring you something." Richard and Daniel found the approach a bit odd, but followed the request. The locker rooms smelled musty, the floor wasn't particularly clean, and strangest of all was the large hole in the partitions at belt height.

"You lads prefer boxers with those big dicks of yours, don't you?" " You bet your ass I do," Daniel replied. "Here you go. Aren't really Calvin Klein, but good quality." Richard pulled on the shorts. He massaged his cock. Felt really massive. "And here are socks. Size 12 should fit." The two put on the white athletic socks. They immediately got dirty on the greasy floor. "Tell me mates! Are you guys brothers? You look a bit alike." "Fuck, yeah," Daniel replied. "Here are some jeans. See if you like them. And who's the older of you?" Richard pulled up his pants. He'd never worn ripped jeans before. But they felt great. And they sat so low on his hips that you could still read the Calvin Klein lettering super. That's how he'd imagined it. "The older one is me, mate," Richard said. "But only three months. We're half-brothers. Dad screwed anything that couldn't run away fast enough." Dan replied that Richard's mother, however, had also been a whore who had let everyone have it. "You got it, bro! Your mom's not a whore, of course. And where did all your brothers and sisters come from?" replied Dick.

"Here's two cool pairs of shoes. Let's take a look, mates," the store attendant said, pulling the curtains aside. Dan and Dick grinned and posted for fun. "Wow, your training is paying off, Mates! You both box welterweight?" "Nah," Dick said. "I'm a lightweight. But I'm working on it. The goal is middleweight already." "You guys are probably going out clubbing today. T-shirts for clubbing?" Dan said they were going to get drinks at the gas station first. And then maybe to the pub. But T-shirt is fine." The store attendant tossed them two black T-shirts. Dan and Dick put them on and took out their chains. They were quiet for everyone to see. "Why aren't you both inked, anyway? Your tattoos are really coming along!" Dick stroked his neck and arm. Yes, he was really proud of them, but they had cost a lot of money. And Dan just had to save up a little bit of money, then he would surely get a tattoo.

Fortunately, they had collected a lot of money today. The two fine toffs Dan and Dick had stolen the coats from had been carrying a lot of cash. "Mates, the jackets really go with your outfit. Can't nobody tell they're not Moncler." The two put the jackets on. The pal was right. They looked awesome! "Mates, did you want to earn a £100 discount on the clothes. If one of you blows the other in the booth through the glory hole and I can use the video on Tiktok, everything together will only cost 50 pounds. Dick tossed a swiped credit card to the store attendant. "We'll pay by card, but we'll do it for 100 pounds cash."

Once the two were back outside, Dick had to light a fag. Dan still had the taste of Dick's cum in his mouth and declined, grinning. "Not until after the next beer. Your spunk tastes like shit." "And yours tastes like piss!"

[conkreetmonkey]

Looking at blackout curtains to replace my current thin-ass regular curtains, hastily purchased at Walmart when we converted what was previously not a bedroom into my bedroom. My comfort would greatly benefit, as the sun shines directly through my southeast-facing window for most of the day, and the way my desk is set up I'm facing it when I'm using my computer, so I have to constantly avert my eyes (as I'm doing right now, lol). At night, there's a streetlight that doesn't shine through as much but still does, and would make sleep impossible if I had no curtains at all.

I'm working on making my bedroom an actual nice place to be, because the other day I came to the harrowing realization that I'm content to wallow in a foul neckbeard nest due to a complete lack of self-respect. For the reasons previously mentioned, I feel like good-quality blackout curtains would be a natural first step.

NOW, I'm conflicted between two options I have come across. One is a cheaper pair from Home Depot, costing $40 with free shipping, that I think should fit my window well (I still have to measure) without any trimming required.

However, I'm not huge on the drab colours, plain fabric and complete lack of patterned options. They're functional, inoffensively coloured and will probably fit my window, but that's about it.

THEN there's a pair from Ikea, certainly much larger than I need in length but available in a pattern I think would look great, with nicer-looking fabric (both are just polyester, though).

Now, the Ikea pair costs $99 before shipping, well over twice the price of the Home Depot set. I'd definitely have to trim them, and this is the only size they come in, so I'd be paying for fabric I don't need and would just be stowing away in the scrap bin. I'm not the best at sewing, either, so the hem would likely be ugly af. Still, despite all this, they are quite alluring... my brain says Home Depot, but my heart says Ikea...

I'm having a hard time choosing. Which do YOU think I should get? I have several hundred bucks in the bank rn and I haven't made a for-fun purchase since last spring at the latest aside from 2 or 3 <$15 Steam sale games, only eating out when the alternative is skipping a meal and not buying any clothes aside from neccesary socks and undies, so maybe the Ikea curtains could be justified? They're the price of, what, 4-6 fast food combo meals? My basement boy bills (only phone and pet food) are about $75 a month, give or take, which I easily overshoot with my part-time job. Still, it's a LOT of money in my world... asking for advice here. Should I stick with the budget option, or splurge on something prettier?

[togglesbloggle]

I was tagged by @wellmetmat in @perdvivly's ask meme that's going around- thanks for the interest! A few questions, they shall be answered. I won't tag anyone else for now, but anyone who sees this should absolutely respond if they're so inclined.

1. What virtue do you most often see in other people that you feel comparatively deficient in?

Easy one for me: diligence. Consistency, commitment, patient sustained focus on moderate challenges. Being there not on day 1 but on day 1000.

It's a skill I greatly admire in others, and I'm often drawn to those who can practice it successfully and consistently. The virtue of diligence has a way of making the world around oneself a dramatically better place, so being attracted to such people really works out well for me in the long run. Good parenting is perhaps one of the ur-examples here; the stakes of consistency get about as high as they reasonably can, and the rewards are just as clear. I've heard parents say that it's a time of very long days and very short years, and I often strive to give my days and my years the same quality- with not as much success as I'd like.

2. Show us an object in your daily life that you have an emotional attachment to - tell us a little bit about it if you want! (a favourite mug perhaps? socks with a cute pattern? dealers choice)

I actually live more-or-less surrounded by little curios that meet this description, so I had a lot to choose from. It's a lifestyle, or at least a method of interior decorating, that makes me really happy. I grabbed these three more or less at random. From left to right:

Every geologist has a collection of boring-looking rocks with cool science attached; this is the star of my collection. It's a microbialite, meaning roughly that it's a 'fossil' of an ancient microbial mat. This one is from the Buck Reef Chert in South Africa, basically a piece of flint. It's 3.42 billion years old, from the Paleoarchean. It's nearly seven times older than multicellular life, and even predates oxygenic photosynthesis (which is the pattern where plants or green algae uptake CO2 and release oxygen); the organisms that created this fossil breathed iron instead. So it's the sort of organism that was common in the shallower waters of Earth's oceans back in the most primordial ecosystems we have a record of. A relic from an alien world, older than a full third of the stars in the Milky Way galaxy. I find it very beautiful to be biologically related to it, and to be part of the same uninterrupted organic chemical reaction.

In the middle is my orchestrator badge for a university class which conducts an elaborate simulation of the papal election of 1492 and its aftermath, run by a professor in the history department- this is last year's. You may recognize 1492 in the Italian peninsula as 'interesting times'. It's taken for class credit, but the heart of it is a LARP that plays out over the course of about two and a half weeks, with full costuming and set-dressing. Every student is assigned a particular period character; most are voting cardinals, some are monarchs ruling over France or Spain and trying to get a favorable pope for themselves, a few are invented minor roles like vote counters that wouldn't have been recorded by history (so that clever cardinals can bribe them, among other things; we have rules for how much the vote-takers can cheat). After suitable prep, we let them loose, and watch the poor bastards chase incentive gradients far enough to burn Europe to the ground. I myself pretend to be a mere orchestrator for the first three days of the simulation, and act mostly as a custodian for the monarchs, but then I dramatically reveal myself to actually be Sultan Bayezid II, of the Ottoman Empire, and then proceed to menace Europe with my impossible wealth, vast armies, and advanced technologies. It is, without fail, a delight.

The right is a watch given to me as a birthday gift some years ago by my dear sister, one of the marvelous transparent ones where you can see finely made gears and springs all working. It's effective for being taken seriously in Europe; combined with brown leather shoes and a thoughtful choice of shirt, it's enough to elevate you above the 'slobby American tourist' first impressions. The watch's finest hour was when I wore it to the front row of the Penn and Teller production of Shakespeare's Tempest. The show was full of stage magic to supplement the play itself, because of course it was, and this watch was irresistible to them during the audience-participation bits. Ariel the wind spirit made a great show of stealing it off my wrist, and of disappearing it and so on multiple times.

3. If you could choose, what level of fame would you want? How many people would you want to recognise you?

There's a level of demifame that I think is just right: enough respect within a widely-spread subculture to earn a comfortable income from fans, and relative anonymity outside it. Jo Walton is at about that sweet spot, for a concrete example. In practice, I think this translates to a few tens of thousands of people around the world that would recognize you, but the key is that they're not randomly selected: they're the people that you share that subculture with, so there's a baseline of mutual regard and shared values even when you're greeted out of nowhere by a stranger in a strange city.

4. Where do you feel language is least adequate to capture, communicate, or express your experience?

What a mean question to ask by text! Ha.

There's a set of experiences you can reach, which I happened to find both through scientific literacy and mindfulness meditation, involving the conditionality and contingencies of personal identity. You may have felt it a little bit when I was talking about my favorite rock, just now; you might not have. I have a powerful and sustained sense of myself as an expression of natural processes, or perhaps of the role of consciousness in illuminating the full depth of that process. It's quite comforting, I suppose, though even that's not a particularly apt description really. I think I called it being 'deep okay' a while back, though I don't recall where; I don’t think I came up with that label myself though. It was here!

5. If you had to come up with a question with the following criteria:

a) it should disuade knee-jerk reaction answers (i.e. it shouldn't be something people are likely to have spent a lot of time considering before)

b) it shouldn't be too specialised (the audience should be general, don't ask about people's top 3 byzantine spice merchants opperating between 754AD-816AD)

c) it shouldn't be needlessly emotionally charged or divisive

d) it should be a question you expect people to have lots of varied opinions about

What would your question be?

What are the kinds of magic you most wish for, or the laws of reality that you most wish could be overcome? What would this allow you to become?

---

Actually I lied I'm tagging @ritterum @femmenietzsche @eka-mark if they haven't been already.

[joeseventies]

RTC characters as quotes my friends and i have said

Mischa: "Go get your ears hear-ed."

Constance: "Today I got out of my mom's car and I fell and I said 'weeee' before I fell."  

Penny: "And they sit in the windowsill and just stay completely still and they stare."

Ricky: "How giant… is the Uno."

Noel: "Meh." Ocean: "Meh? What does that mean?" Noel: "Its like shrugging, but with my voice."

Penny: "If I had a nickel for everytime I swallowed a nickel, I'd have exactly one nickel."

Ricky: "Everytime a phone rings, nitrogen gets its wings."

Mischa: "Too fast for the eye movement."

Constance: "I think that's legit the flavor." Ocean: "Flavor? Do you EAT your handsanitizer?" Penny: "I do."

Constance: "Dont threaten me about my socks! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Ricky: "Careful there J.D." Mischa: "Who's that?" Ricky: "You dont know who J.D. is?" Mischa: "Isn't he from Warrior Cats?"

Noel: "You have the IQ of soft toast."

Penny: "I'm not a criminal, I'm just a drug dealer."

Mischa: "If I'm an idiot, then you're a ghost."

Constance: "You're not stinky."

Noel: "He’s like a very Italian pepperoni pizza. But british."

Ricky: "I'm shoving my gay up my pants."

Mischa: "Everybody gangsta till they tongue starts feeling weird."

Ricky: "Imma great mafia talk. Meow shmeow."

Penny: "3 people voted. God is dead."

Ricky: "Homosexual bad grr"

Noel: "I am not fucking watching Glee."

Ricky: "Remember: When fire strikes… Gay out and slay out!"

Noel: "They're still gnomes, I don't care if they're gay."

Ricky: "Happy Birthday, here's my AIDS."

Constance: "Chocolate MILF? I like women."

Ocean: "What's under my eyes? That's right. Abstinence."

Mischa: "I will only shake my ass for the POPE!!"

Ricky: "Run me over with your car, oh baby."

Ocean: "Give me your paper, you infertile gold digger."

Noel: "You're the one staring at my donut like a pedophile staring at a playground."

Penny: "Its not vandalism if it's fun."

Mischa: "Do you wanna check out my ass? For one second?"

Constance: "Straight people can be kinky too."

Ocean: "I'm literally a lobster. Lobsters don't have airpods."

Ricky: "Another day, another slay."

Mischa: "Don’t pull up on me. I'll pull up on your mouth."

Penny: "I know where your heart is."

Ocean: "You want my life to be miserable because you won't give me a penny?"

Penny: "I can feel every fiber in your body."

Noel: "Do as I say, not as I say."

Penny: "Does your fish want to paint? Woop woop woop."

Ricky: "Do you guys like my ring? Just kidding it's a pink monkey."

Mischa: getting choked "That was good form."

Ocean: "Let me put my hand in your pocket and show you I'm not gay."

Penny: "I always make people look away. Whether it be with my face or my actions."

Constance: "Little donuts on my math paper make me anxious."

Penny: "I've been craving water since 2nd grade."

Ocean: "Turn on your brains. Turn on your ears. Cause it sounds like they're not on."

Penny: "So health or religion?" Ricky: "Communism."

Mischa: "They word in such a way that words should not or should word."

Mischa: “Wait Stuart Little is Shakespeare?”

Noel: "You know how much I'd kill myself??!??!"

Penny: "Yep that's some high quality cocaine."

Noel: "Youre pissing me off." Ocean: "You're pissing me on."

Ocean: "You're gonna end up on an episode of forensic files."

[assortedvillainvault]

I just got into the horned king 😭

I'm on character ai and he tries to get jiggy with it, I can not for the life of me imagine his body frfr

What do you think it'd be? Is there a canon appearance besides his bone face? 😭

I need help lol 😭

- Lucky Katsune

JJFBLFHU ok well thank you for pulling this into the forefront of my blog and brain like the result some kind of hellish lichsimp deep sea fishing reel. (positive)

Starting off with I very much understand the lure of the AI, I did some experimenting with it myself a while back - but honestly once the initial newness of it wears off its a very clunky (and dubious) tool, you're honestly going to get better entertainment from a blank word doc and a no holds barred laugh-yourself-silly discussion over discord as you write.

Secondly, onto the fun part-

(Lich anatomy with pictures and suggestive things under the cut lads, you know the drill. If you don't wanna see stuff don't click.)

The Horned King has no 'canonical' under-robe going on EXCEPT for the very brief frames shown during his death scene, in which the cauldron slurps down his clothes before making him melt and explode and godIwishthatwereme -

(I make NO APOLOGIES for my work choice here this is the HK simp blog you knew what you were getting into under the read more)

What we can see from most of the film is his face appears to be the most decomposed part of him that is visible - his hands are withered but still fully fleshed, and his forearms seem to retain a decent mount of muscle.

From the way his shoes right at the beginning of the film basically move like thick socks, it stand to reason his feet would retain a decent amount of flesh to get that rounded look. I am Not typing 'Horned King Feet' into google again so you're going to have to go without a refeence pic for now. I have limits.

That leaves us with literally everything in between.

i can't get a clearer or better quality shot so I apologise, but this is what we can glimpse mid melting:

Same greyish green tinge and leathery texture for the skin all over his torso, not to mention a decent amount of flesh left overall! His shoulders seem pretty large for a corpse (lets not forget in the books he's a hunter and a warlord) and I struggle to believe he wouldn't know how to use any of the weapons in his castle. Given we can see the curve of his back there's no reason to beleive the flesh coverage doesn't extend all the way down his legs too.

With proof out of the way now we can get onto the fun part!!

I personally like to headcannon that parts of his vertebrae and lower ribs 'peek' through his skin because the more monstrous and rotten the better in my book. He also probably got scars due to the violent job description of being a medieval warlord, undead sorcerer or not.

Corpses do tend to look a little shrink wrapped as they loose moisture and muscle mass, so he's probably on the skinnier side and his joints will protrude a little, especially the hips and knees. Heck just look at the way his hands widen from the wrist bone! That robe is for more than just warmth (wales be chilly), it's making his silhouette larger becuase when they're not swinging weapons at you or barfing up green smoke, decaying bodies actually are pretty small.

Given he's got no eyebrows and no hair peeking out from under he hood, I'd hedge a bet he's hairless all over too.

And lastly I can't find your blog so Idk if you're of an age I feel comfortable discussing NSFT with outright, but safe to say anything between his legs is fair game. You want him with an eggplant? Me too go get em. You want him like a ken doll becuase it fell off a hundred years ago and he never mentally recovered? Sure go for it I know a couple people that headconnon him that way. Skelebussy? Tentacles? Go forth and conquer my dude.

You're having fun so you can literally put whatever the hell you want under his robes as long as you're having a good time. Hope this helped!!

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

@cullen-blue23

🧟🛁🍜

It has been many years since Wen Ning last celebrated his birthday. In fact, he doesn't even remember when he actually celebrated it last -who could blame him, with the life he's had? And anyway, with him being technically dead, he isn't sure he even should be celebrating a birthday anymore at all.

But all that stuff doesn't seem to faze the juniors at all - because they've (with master Wei's and Hanguang-Jun's help) prepared him a very thoughtful gift this year: a spa day. Now, Wen Ning has no idea what a spa is, but he figures it's good, because even young master Jin said he has a personal one, and Jinlintai is known for luxury.

First, Wen Ning has received three sets of new, tailor-made robes. They're obviously very high quality and finely embroidered, with a note from young master Jin: "Please wear these so you don't have to look so ratty anymore. You're the Ghost General, you should look the part. Also, this is a thank you for saving me back there in Guanyin Temple. And in Yi City. P.S. I know you're sorry for what happened with my dad. We'll work through it. Happy Birthday!"

If he could still cry, he would have.

Next, A-Yuan - no, Sizhui - has gifted him three new pairs of shoes. "Jingyi and I couldn't decide, so we bought them all. We hope you like them!"

"They're super sturdy so you can still do your cool ghost general stuff wearing them! And we also got you socks!"

Ouyang Zizhen hands him a beautiful black box of hairpins and a handmade comb. "Hair is very important in one's appearance, Wen-gongzi. My mother's clan specializes in carving combs and hair pieces, and I hope you will wear them with pride."

The last gift is collaborative. A massive basket brimming with expensive soaps, bath oils, shampoo and perfume, each with little notes on what they're for and how to use them. Wen Ning can recognize Hanguang-Jun's calligraphy and finds himself touched by the gesture. He has been quite sure Hanguang-Jun did not like him very much, with the way he acted a while ago...

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji arrive last at Wen Ning's little party, with good reason. They've convinced the Lan elders to allow Wen Ning to live in the Cloud Recesses in a spare guest house, and they've been spending the last few days furnishing it.

"I'm going to get very emotional right now," Wei Ying says, taking a deep, shaky breath, "But you and Wen Qing and everyone that's sadly no longer around, you guys have been my home and my family when I had nothing. And I always regretted not being able to do more for you. But now I can and I hope I'll be able to offer you the home you deserve here, in a peaceful, clean place."

Wen Ning shakes with the emotion of everything that's happened and knows to do nothing but pull everyone in a tight ("too tight, Wen-gongzi, we're dying") hug - before he's being taken to visit his new home.

It's modest but nice, and that's more than Wen Ning could ever ask for. His mouth twitches when he notices his bathtub is the same sturdy kind that Wei Wuxian has custom ordered.

"You never know, A-Ning." he says, and winks. "Maybe you'll find someone to break bathtubs with as well!"

"Wei-gongzi!! The children!!"

"It's fine, everyone knows what happens with the bathtubs." Jingyi says, casually. "It's Cloud Recesses lore."

"We should let Wen Ning enjoy his new home and his gifts now." Hanguang-Jun elegantly speaks as he ushers the kids out, and wishes Wen Ning a quiet happy birthday before walking out.

In his little kitchen, Wen Ning finds a bowl of Master Wei's super spicy congee.

At least he doesn't have taste buds anymore.

---

The Cloud Recesses comes alive with gossip the next day, rules be damned - everybody wants to know who the fine young master living in the eastern guest house is! He's so handsome and so polite, finely dressed and smelling of the most expensive perfumes, young ladies and young masters trip over themselves in his presence!

"As they should." Wei Wuxian comments and there is nobody to argue against it.

[faebriel]

could you give us some misc c!niki or c!rainduo headcanons.. missing them hours

so true anon. here are a couple miscellaneous headcanons (from the silly to the sad)

c!niki headcanons:

this is kind of a worldbuilding headcanon but i hc that some players are born to parents while others are spawned out of nowhere? niki spawned in as a kid in perfect smp and along with the other parentless kids grew up in a kind of village-raising-the-children situation. that sense of community never left her no matter where she went

she's never been very good at self-soothing behaviours, even as a kid. baking is kind of the closest thing she has and even that requires a level of focus and precision that after manberg she doesn't always have

i think she and fundy tried to give each other home piercings (nose piercing for niki, earlobe piercing for fundy) with somewhat varied results. if not for manberg they also would have discovered the stick and poke

big on gardening

she's a very poor medic - she tried to take the lead on curing tubbo's firework wounds in pogtopia but doesn't have a great sense for medicine. she had to take a lot of advice from techno which at the time she found very frustrating, as she took a while to warm up to him

her favourite baked goods are strawberry related

she also has a nigh-supernatural sense for guessing what people's favourite baked goods are on vibes alone

i think she's typically a decent advice giver but she really struggles to comprehend poor mental health in another person and in herself - she takes it far more personally than she should :( if she was a better smarter friend she would be able to solve all mental illnesses ever. makes her feel useless when her friends are suffering, and then when her own mental health deteriorates she has zero tools to detect, understand or do anything about it

part of the poor blood circulation brigade (not only are her hands freezing in winter, they are so hot in summer !! )

c!rainduo headcanons:

they would 100% do subtle dorky shit like have matching socks i think. niki has definitely knitted them at least one pair. they own l'manberg flag socks

neither of them are particularly athletic compared to their peers but they're absolute fiends in like. skipping rope competitions

they play guitar and sing together!! wilbur is a pretty prolific songwriter and she was one of the few people he'd sit down with and they'd sit there and pluck out the notes while he reworked the lyrics

in the oooold (read: pre-l'manberg) days, wilbur used to play music and sing while niki baked. he stopped doing this in l'manberg because he got too busy with the presidency, and she was never quite able to talk him into spending an afternoon on it again

they spoke very rarely in pogtopia. wilbur tended to avoid niki because he struggled to comfortably reconcile showing off how far he'd fallen with how much he'd always held niki up on a pedestal and wanted to show off his best qualities to impress her. so he just kind of avoided her. niki was increasingly hurt by this (and his abandonment of her in the first place) so she didn't really seek him out - and she figured they would be able to sort things out after the war ended and they won l'manberg back, anyway.

wilbur used to insist on showering niki with gifts on her birthday! niki is the kind of homemade-gift-bursting-with-love gift giver

wilbur picked up smoking as a stress management habit during his presidency, but niki didn't know about it until pogtopia - she once saw him put a butt out on his wrist and she ripped him a new one in front of tommy and techno and it made the cavern unbearably awkward for like three days

niki and that damn coat. okay so wilbur gave her That Damn Coat in pogtopia before the war and they were this 👌 close to being so damn obnoxious about having matching fits if they weren't going through the horrors of tragedy at the time. niki kept it in new l'manberg - she wore it pretty frequently, but it freaked a lot of people out (the memories were too fresh...), so eventually she did in fact stop wearing it in public. after doomsday, she picked up wearing it again (under the excuse that it gets cold down in the underground city, which would be super convincing if it wasn't thin and weedy. and it's not like there's anyone around to judge her anymore, is there? it's like the world's most fucked up comfort object except it provides zero comfort whatsoever

when she joins the syndicate phil and techno give her a lovely matching cloak with the rest of them, because it gets so cold up in the arctic. niki gets the postcard from wilbur after their reunion saying that he's gone off to utah and he's not coming back and she eventually (finally) burns the coat.

these got sad. umm pre-l'manberg they co-invented a cocktail so cursed that after one night of partying it was subsequently banned from all events ever. legend says you can go up to a gas station attendant in utah and say the phrase "soul sand skittle-savoy affair" and he will immediately gag

[star--nymph]

don't you fucking ask 'why didn't you add [insert bad bioware thing here] I RAN OUT OF ROOM GET OFF MY BACK

[hekateinhell]

Would you ever write more about trans!Armand and his three boyfs having fun? 🥺 Yes I might be a bit hinting on something but... you know... you write it so well... 🥺

I would! I just don't know when, things shift around on my fic writing to-do list so much 😭

but I feel bad because I did say I was gonna write it months ago and then I DIDN'T so here's a snippet from what I have languishing in the google gocs that's set in the same AU! mostly armand ruminating on his changing body and the challenges it brings in the bedroom (nsfw) this is supposed to be leading to the gangbang eventually:

He shuts the bedroom door gently and deposits the little white bag on the bed. Armand still hasn't fully settled into the new place – it's home, but it's fragile, tentative – he needs to be careful. 

He starts from the bottom up. Stripping socks, pants, underwear. There's always been a peculiar distinction to him between outside clothes and inside clothes. Everything has to change, even the underwear. Next is the sweater, then the undershirt. 

Finally comes the binder. 

Black and sturdy, it binds all the way down to his belly button, compressing his chest entirely. 

He's lucky, he supposes. Armand's chest – like most of him – had always been on the smaller end of the spectrum. Each side is large enough that Lestat's palms can cover them completely and not much more. 

Still, he craves the illusion of total flatness that a binder provides, and as much as it's nice to shed it and allow his body to relax fully, it always hits him with an initial sense of loss. 

Armand hasn't quite figured out which size and brand works best, and a quality binder is a rather expensive purchase. This one, one of two he has, is a bit too tight and always leaves his chest and sides sore from where it has been pressing down into his tender skin. If anyone else were home, Armand might curl up and ask for a quick massage that would inevitably lead to kissing and fooling around. Later, perhaps. 

Besides, it's good that he has the place to himself, a rare moment of privacy that's hard to come by when four men share a one-bedroom apartment. 

He rubs at his chest absentmindedly for a moment before turning to the dresser. Slips on a fresh pair of briefs and then wonders why he did it – they're about to come off again in a minute. Skips the neatly folded t-shirts in his drawer in favor of the ratty gray sweatshirt stuffed into Daniel's drawer. 

The length hits Armand precisely above his knees, the fabric slipping off to expose his shoulder. He loves wearing their things: Daniel's sweatshirts, Lestat's band tees, Louis's collared shirts – he would wear their pants too if they didn't just fall off him entirely. 

Armand never asks, and nobody seems to mind. 

There's something extraordinarily soothing about disappearing into his lovers' clothes, the feel of each material holding a different association, drowning in their scents whenever he craves that particular comfort. 

Comfort that Armand could use. 

He takes a deep breath and drops onto the bed before reaching into the bag, pulling out the boxed set of dilators, holding it at arm's length, turning it over gingerly as if it has already personally offended him.  

Better to get this over with. 

Made quick work of the packing and did a cursory review of the instructions – nothing that the sweet salesperson hadn't already gone over with him while Armand had stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one side to the other, trying his hardest not to blush and failing spectacularly. 

Five purple cylinders, each with a different length and girth, starting small and gradually increasing in both measures. 

Armand's heartbeat picks up, and his throat feels achingly dry. 

It's not arousal; in fact, he's the opposite of turned on right now. His body knows this is going to be uncomfortable to start with, at best. Interesting how drastically his pain threshold drops when it wasn't tied directly to intimacy, to someone he loves inflicting it on him. And not in a bad way, no, it's just that he'd begged for sex before, even when it physically hurt — he'd delighted in the aches and the stings and in attributing each one to a particular lover. 

But this? Using these tools regularly on himself in the hope that he could retrain his front hole to regain its elasticity? 

It's been a while since anyone had managed to work more than two fingers inside before insisting he was 'too tight, there's no give'; Armand would 'get hurt.' 

Simply put, this was a source of intimacy Armand isn't yet willing to concede. He is stubborn, if nothing else. It's not enough to have his hole touched or for Lestat, Louis, or Daniel to rub against him and press their tip to his hole to ensure some cum made it in. 

[snek-panini]

NaClYoHo day 9 is finished. It was a day for little tasks, mostly. Little annoying tasks that I tend to ignore until they pile up because they're not that important but once I do them they significantly improve my quality of life and I wonder why I didn't do them sooner.

Today (Nov. 9) I:

-Hung 2 things on the walls. Technically 3, since one existing piece had to be moved to make room for the new ones. One of the new things is large and the other is really heavy and a weird shape, and I'm very glad to no longer have to store them.

-Swept the floor in the main room. I'm trying to make this a weekly thing and so far, so good. The clearing of floor clutter since the month began has given me access to new dust bunny spawn points and those all got dealt with today. I didn't mop this week because I genuinely don't think it was necessary. Next week we will see.

-Put away all the out of season shoes. It is no longer sandal weather here; those don't need to be cluttering up the floor. And now they aren't!

-Did some rearranging in the back of my closet. Large art pieces that haven't been hung up yet live there, behind the clothes, and I've hung up enough of them that they were beginning to lean at unwieldy angles. Several of them are too big for the wall space we have right now, but I don't want to get rid of them, and those have been tucked back behind the clothes and storage racks where they won't get in the way or fall and damage each other. A big folding table that we use for special projects is also in there now (it previously lived in the living room, blocking other shelves), and another similar but smaller and flimsier table is earmarked for Goodwill. And there's room to store some other stuff too, if I plan it right.

-Swept the bedroom floor. I wasn't actually planning to do this one today, because the stuff that lives in the bedroom floor needs its own dedicated effort, but there was so much dust while I was doing the closet that I got fed up and did this too. Holy shit, my friends, that was a truly ludicrous amount of dust. Good lord.

-Ordered a new organizer for jewelry. I have a lot of it, and I tend to let it accumulate instead of putting it away. If I have a more efficient organizer I think it will be easier to put it away. I already have one but it's secondhand from a relative and not terribly well suited to my needs.

-Put away the clean socks from last week's laundry.

And that's that. I'm still planning to do the dishes in a little bit, but that's the bulk of the cleaning for today.